


In Good Company

by jeweniper



Series: Fic Amnesty 2016 [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 22:59:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8686717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeweniper/pseuds/jeweniper
Summary: Ennoshita Chikara likes the company of his friends, a good film, and quite possibly his Kickboxing instructor Tanaka Ryuunosuke. Maybe. The evidence isn't strong enough to say.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is day one of my Fic Amnesty week! This monster was more than my doubtful self could chew, and I intended for it to be longer and also go differently. But I tried to at least give it an end so that it had a chance of being satisfying, and this is how it ended up. I apologize if anything was depicted inaccurately! I did my best! And so now it's time to let this go ahahaha. If you find something in it to enjoy, I'll be glad! The nsfw stuff is at the end. Everything else is like...general nonsense.

Ennoshita leaned back and rolled his neck, figures from the screen dancing behind his closed eyelids. He listened to the agreeable murmur of the company desktop and tried to refocus after lunch break. Of course, there was a reason for today’s relative distraction, which he knew perched innocently at the edge of his desk. Peeling open his eyes to look at the ceiling, the sheet of paper clung defiantly at the edge of his vision. He scooted forward in the worn office chair and shifted back into the blue glow of the screen, mind replaying the situation that caused a physical embodiment of _unfortunate circumstance_ to lie tauntingly at the far side of his cubicle.

He’d just returned to his desk after the lunch rush in the company cafeteria, readjusting to the comparably dim lighting of the office and the lack of six or so people standing in his personal bubble. After peeling back flimsy wax paper—all that stood between him and the spicy tuna mayo of edible heaven, he noticed two sharp eyes peering down at him over the cubicle wall. He closed his mouth. The clock ticked. There were a number of reasons why this unsettled him, the first of which being that _these_ eyes should not be peering down at him from anywhere at all, ever.

“Nishinoya, do you need something?” he finally asked, stomach cursing at delayed gratification.

Finally acknowledged, the eyes nudged into the telltale squint of a smile, before disappearing with a whoosh and a dull thud. “Funny you ask, my friend,” Nishinoya responded, voice muffled until he reappeared on the other side of the wall. He passed the step ladder in his right hand to the other, exposing the back of a sheet of paper. “You see, I was in the area, and…”

Ennoshita tuned him out, glancing down at the spurned lunch and debating the impoliteness of eating it right then and there. Nishinoya did this, from time to time. Though the Sales department was on the other side of the floor, tucked out by the elevators, he would meander through Accounting and spin some wild tale that always ended in a favor. It’s not that Ennoshita didn’t like the guy, he was great at what he did and rather charismatic. It’s just that his timing was always so—

“So what do you say?” Nishinoya asked, step ladder now casually rested on his shoulder.

“Uh, hm?” Ennoshita blinked, giving a lopsided smile in vague guilt.

“Tsk tsk, Ennoshita. I come to you, all the way over here on my tiny legs, and you can’t even hear me out? At the very least I think you should come with me once, to make up for it. But if you need more convincing,” he trailed off, glancing at the sandwich and reaching to open the step-ladder.

“Yes, I’ll go! Sorry, I’m just kind of hungry. But I’ll go!” He relented, winning a grin from the smaller man. Nishinoya always had terrible timing, and somehow always managed to corral Ennoshita into agreeing to whatever he brought up.

“Fantastic! I’ll just leave this here then, has the time Tuesday for the first class and everything. I’ll meet you there! Kickboxing is so fun and the instructor is wicked awesome, I’m sure you’ll love it!” He finished, expertly tossing the flyer so that it landed gracefully next to the keyboard.

Which is where it remained throughout the rest of his shift, set to be ignored (at least until the next day, he wouldn’t leave Nishinoya hanging like that) until his good friend Narita accidentally knocked it onto the floor. When he apologized and held the flyer out to Ennoshita with a smile, he sighed in defeat and gingerly wrapped it in his grip, taking it slowly so that he could eye it with mild suspicion. Why kickboxing? Why him? Actually, the salesman had likely asked others (who were all better at declining than himself) before approaching him. Why the step ladder? …He really couldn’t say about that one. Stuffing the sheet into his satchel, he and Narita met up with another friend over in HR before heading to dinner together the way they always did. Ramen might be a little hot for summer, but the leaves were beginning to turn already, so soon it would be perfect for it.

Tuesday came, and contrary to his promises of “don’t worry I’ll walk you through, joining a gym is SUPER easy,” Nishinoya had abandoned him soon after they entered. Ennoshita glanced around the circular lobby, suddenly missing that matinee showing of an obscure indie film he couldn’t remember the name of. He brushed his Adidas shorts with his fingers, goose bumps kissing the air that brushed his calves and shoulders, so unaccustomed to exposure. He shuffled towards the far edge of the reception desk, admiring how the crescent opened into pathways leading to the rest of the gym, though the whites and blues felt a bit cold for his taste.

“Can I help you?” A high-pitched voiced chirped from diagonally behind him, startling him from where he’d begun to lean with his elbow. He turned to the young blonde girl at the other end, staring at him brightly. He read _Yachi_ on her nametag when she turned towards him invitingly.

“Actually, I was hoping to join the gym here and...” he trailed off.

She beamed and clasped his hand, exclaiming, “That’s great!” before blushing and releasing her hold. “Anyway, joining a gym can be a fantastic decision for anyone wanting to spice up their life or improve their health,” she continued stiffly, rummaging through her desk before producing a neat pack of forms and nudging it shyly across the speckled laminate. Before returning eye-contact, she lightly swept her fingers through the golden strands above her ear. “Would you like to sign up for a two-week class trial as well? It’s a nice, free way for new members to get acclimated to the gym community.” He reached into his bag in search of the flyer.

When he finally produced it, she leaned back in her chair, adopting a thoughtful expression. “Oh, Tanaka’s class? I wouldn’t have expected that. He’s kind of intense.” She beamed then, directing him down a poorly lit hall and off to the right.

He shuffled down the hallway alone, replaying her words in his head. While he would certainly agree that his appearance didn’t exactly scream _Kickboxing Champion of the Tohoku Region_ , having that told to his face had defiance sprouting before even laying eyes on the “intense” instructor. He snuck through the class’s arrival routine to lean against an inconspicuous swatch of back wall. Off in a front corner of the room, Nishinoya huddled with a tall bald man who guffawed loudly before seeming to notice the quieting group. He grinned towards the assembly before him, younger than Ennoshita expected him to appear, around his own age even. So this was the instructor, Tanaka. Ennoshita smiled when Nishinoya finally acknowledged him with a quick wave. The instructor’s hair was cropped close to his skull, and the grin he presented to the gathered students showed teeth glaring white beneath his scowling eyebrows. _What a mean face,_ Ennoshita couldn’t help but think, immediately remembering the receptionist’s description.

“All right guys, looks like you’ve come out in force today too,” he bellowed, tone much friendlier than his expression hinted. “We’re going to have a great time! Right, Kiyoko?” He asked, addressing an elegant woman in the third row. She slowly turned towards the wall, ignoring him completely. Ennoshita hastily swallowed a laugh. Tanaka had already recovered though, calling, “we are, right Noya? I mean you were in this class before, so I can count on you again, right?”

“That’s right!” Nishinoya shouted, throwing his entire body into two energetic thumbs up. Ennoshita shook his head. Leave it to the guardian of the sales department, able to butter up the most finicky of customers, to have befriended this villainous-looking gym instructor.

Drawn to the movement in the back, Tanaka finally turned his hard gaze on Ennoshita and barked, “You here to watch?”

“Oh, yes! I’m Ennoshita, I just joined the gym today so…” he supplied, straightening his posture and forcing confidence into his voice.

Tanaka nodded somberly, crossing toned arms across a broad chest while saying, “Welcome, welcome. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me or any of my capable students here.” Ennoshita could only nod quickly, feeling the eyes of the room upon him.

But he never had the chance to ask anything. He spent the hour-long session mesmerized as Tanaka led the group through an energetic class. He expected someone with such a loud personality to stay at the center of the room, but the guy moved everywhere—coaxing someone into the proper stance here, shouting an instruction there, and flirting with the old women who’d giggled about him on the way in. In fact, he hardly appeared at the front of the room at all, but it was clear that he had complete control over the mirrored space. Ennoshita was vaguely reminded of a classic waltz. Each turn accurate and practiced, yet seemingly so fluid. Suddenly it was over, and Ennoshita witnessed the instructor cover his face and mime a few sobs after losing rock-paper-scissors to Nishinoya. He wondered if the serious impression from before had been the overly-high praise of a novel experience and eyed the two as they approached him.

“Noya tells me he dragged you here! Welcome to the gym, I’m Tanaka. So what do you think? Pretty girls,” he waved in the direction of Kiyoko and her friends, “good friends, great workout…you’re going to join, right?”

He looked so comfortable, so confident. Things often went pretty well for these types, those who held presence. Ennoshita wasn’t by any account a spiteful person, but he kind of wanted to mess with him. He slid his eyes towards the door and chirped, “I might,” glancing back in time to see both of their surprised faces, feeling a small measure of satisfaction.

 

Overall, Ennoshita enjoyed the kickboxing class. It was definitely a workout, but apparently running around the office everyday was enough cardio to keep him from completely falling out. The only thing that bothered him was the instructor—Ennoshita couldn’t figure him out.

Most days he was pretty overwhelming: intimidating gym-goers, acting ridiculous with Nishinoya, fawning over (and subsequently getting shot down by) Kiyoko or some other beautiful woman. In short, he was all over the place. And Ennoshita would be content to write him off as an excitable fool with unexpected skill at leading a gym class, but then there were times like last week that begged him to re-evaluate.

It had been Thursday afternoon, air muggy with the late-August sun. Usually Ennoshita helped Narita finish some work or other when his own was done before coming by the gym, but his friend had recently closed a sizeable deal and had finished early, so with an hour to kill and nothing promising on Netflix, he found himself pulling into the cracked asphalt of the parking lot. Feeling a bit out of his element (since his usual route consisted of the front desk, the hallway to the kickboxing room, and back out again), he sat on the first recognizable exercise machine, fiddled with the weights, and began pulling the bar to his chest, letting it up, and repeating the process. Before his mind completely shut off, someone sat on the bench next to him. He originally felt vague worry that said someone would judge his obvious awkwardness on the machine, before casually admiring said intruder’s (lovingly crafted) abs when they pulled their tank top up to wipe their face.

Ennoshita was careful to keep his movements natural, but the man was too focused on his own workout to notice, and after a short time he had gotten up and returned to the free weights to continue his superset. Idly, Ennoshita’s eyes trailed the man’s equally defined calves, slowly climbing over the deep olive skin (that looked familiar but only in an unimportant way) until he landed on the face, which frowned slightly in quiet focus. Except he had only ever seen this _particular_ face screwed up in some extremity of emotion—and never quiet. In his surprise, Ennoshita whipped away from Tanaka’s face (and, he’ll admit it, A+ body) to stare at the flaking paint of the machine before him.  When nobody shamed him for several seconds, he allowed himself to peek back over, where Tanaka was doing yet another exercise with the same concentration. Vaguely aware of his own arms aching, he stopped pulling and simply sat there, watching his instructor with pursed lips. He’d been in class with this man for a whole week, and not once had he looked like this. So what was the deal? But before he could come up with a satisfactory explanation, one of the elderly women from class called out to Tanaka, and he quickly stowed his free weights to run over and help her carry something, face blooming into a giant grin with his loud voice floating over to the…whatever Ennoshita was sitting on, shattering the illusion.

He kept a careful eye on Tanaka throughout class that evening, and not only because the techniques were more complex (seriously, what was the point of spinning in a circle if you’re just going to kick somebody). He’d taken his customary position next to Nishinoya on the mat, but paid the shorter man little attention, instead flicking his gaze to the baldy wherever he migrated in the room. As usual, he witnessed explosive encouragements, wildly enthusiastic demonstrations, and a fascinating rippling of the skin beneath the short cropping of hair during Tanaka’s many expression changes.

…But no quiet frown, no slight dip where the eyebrows met in concentration. Ennoshita jabbed with a little more intensity, pondering the difference from earlier. Was it a classroom persona? He considered turning back for another look and decided against it—there was no need. He could hear the rumbling tones of his voice from across the room and vividly craft some crazy look to match. Something in his gut twisted venomously while he went into another round of aggressive front kicks. He closed his eyes, hoping to strangle the familiar pangs of an oncoming headache. When something smacked against his ankle, he snapped them open to greet the ceiling before slamming onto the padded floor.

Nishinoya grinned from above, reaching a hand down after the traitorous sweep. “Thought I’d get your mind off of whatever’s making you so angry,” he offered as explanation.

Ennoshita grinned amiably in response once the air returned to his lungs, since the surprise had helped to curb the headache, but his mind wouldn’t let the topic go. He wasn’t _angry_ , just …vexed. Befuddled, if you will. He trained his gaze on Tanaka again while they gathered for end-of-class stretches and frowned. Not angry, probably.

“Is it Tanaka?” Nishinoya asked in a comically-loud whisper, startling him. He looked down in alarm, wondering just how intently he had been glaring at the man in front. “He can be a lot but I swear he’s not a bad guy. Did he do something?” He pushed on, engulfing Ennoshita in the full concern of his catlike gaze.

Ennoshita gave a quick shake of his head and an apologetic smile. “I was just wondering something,” he answered quietly, turning towards the front again.

 

 _It’s not like I need to know everything about everybody_ , Ennoshita told himself, slamming the door to his car and ignoring the slight clamminess in the air as he locked the door, _I just like to have an idea of who I’m dealing with. Who I’m putting trust in and learning from_ , he rationalized, shouldering his bag and shuffling into the gym with the totally foreign Tuesday-morning crowd. His grip relaxed when Yachi showered him with a warm, beaming smile from the front desk. So she also worked on weekday mornings, that was encouraging. Upon sighting the now familiar slope of Tanaka’s form on the treadmill, a relieved sigh escaped through his lips. As though he hadn’t been coming to the gym the past few mornings in addition to early on class days, just to watch him (and pinpoint his personality while also working out, he was careful to specify). He basked in the odd presence of quiet and Tanaka in the same place before resetting his own features into a neutrally-open expression and climbing onto the machine next to him.

“Oh, Ennoshita, so you’ve made it this morning too, huh?” He began, dappled with a light mist of sweat but breathing as normally as though asleep, “you’ve become a surprisingly diligent student. Want to be my superset buddy again today?”

Ennoshita treated him with a mild look, enjoying his full attention though he’d quickly turned back to his own treadmill to tinker with the display. “As long as you don’t mind my company,” he supplied, studying the grimace-like pull of Tanaka’s chuckling features from the corner of his eye.  And as the pair—two opposites in the realm of stamina—went through their recently-established routine, Ennoshita allowed himself some honesty. Since sneaking to the gym (increasingly often) without Nishinoya to first observe and then exercise with Tanaka, he had found out a few things. First, as odd as it originally seemed, neither the relatively calm Tanaka of the individual circuit nor the boisterous social butterfly of an instructor were insincere personas. Second, when there wasn’t a girl or equally off-the-wall friend to impress, Ennoshita found that Tanaka hovered around a volume only a few decibels louder than necessary (provided no one ignored his glares and stole his machine while he wasn’t looking). Third, the toned man could not go five minutes without stripping his shirt (which still proved a challenge to Ennoshita’s focus). Finally, and perhaps most distressing, he noticed that his previously annoying dramatics and outbursts now left Ennoshita smirking goofily into the ground or his towel or the sky—basically anywhere BUT at Tanaka where someone could see him.

Later, he stood from the water fountain after another break, gaze naturally landing on Tanaka doing calf raises in wait. He chuckled when his “smile” caused a child to wail in fear. But the chuckles crumpled like dead leaves when Kiyoko and her squash partner Yui’s walk to the inner track caught Tanaka’s attention. Once they’d disappeared from view he relaxed his unexpectedly tight grip on the fountain. Basically, all of his recent findings would be no problem except there was _always_ someone for Tanaka to feel like he had to impress, a fact that had dark insects nibbling at his insides whenever the man appeared in his mind.

He waved to catch his workout partner’s attention upon returning from the fountain and they began their cool down, Ennoshita with a lazy smile settled firmly on his face. _Yeah, so Tanaka always has someone else on his mind—not a big deal,_ he told himself, feebly trying to dam the flood of insecurities that he knew hovered just beyond his fatigue. But with each second in the stretch’s count, his mind set to work. It didn’t matter who Tanaka was interested in, the two of them would cease meeting up once class was over in less than a week. What could Ennoshita possibly offer him in the way of company? Tanaka was a charming guy; surely some pretty girl would give him a chance. And if not, he had a way with older women too. Actually, even guys like Nishinoya were drawn to his presence.

He began to sweat through his smile, willing the onslaught to stop. He swallowed, the action sounding overly loud in his ears. And what if he attempted to keep the acquaintanceship up? Tanaka would laugh, after all what’s more pitiful than someone who can’t take a hint? The same issue probably pushed his clients away and alienated many of his team members. It would do him better to just keep his head down and do his job. _Which isn’t writing film reviews_ , the black bowels of his thoughts reminded, spotlighting the hours he devoted to his blog and the piles of references and film magazines that he had crammed all around his apartment. Because despite how cliché it was, he couldn’t help but hope that he’d make it as a film critic one day. He had even stopped showing them to Narita and Kinnoshita, though they kindly lied about the quality and had never judged him for the time he spent on them.

The smile wavered as a familiar ivy began to curl around his toes, quickly enveloping his limbs with a dull buzzing sensation until it licked at the base of his throat. _Please get a hold of yourself_ , he commanded, holding his breath briefly and then exhaling to the image of each limb and digit regaining feeling. He focused on the shapes made by Tanaka’s mouth while he spoke, unaware of his words but thankfully maintaining control. He sighed when the last of it thankfully released him.

                “Are you all right?” He heard Tanaka say, finally rejoining the external world. Ennoshita grinned at him, not yet trusting himself to speech. “Oh, well, I was just asking if you wanted to get drinks sometime next weekend. It’d be after the class ends though, so I don’t know if you’d want to or not.” He mumbled gruffly, glancing between Ennoshita and a spot on the wall beside him.

That caught him by surprise. “But I’m just going to bother you,” he blurted.

They stared at each other for a few moments, Tanaka giving him an odd look, before his features realigned into his grimace-grin. It was fascinating really, the way sparse eyebrows pushed his eyelids closed with the weight of digested humor. Rather than squeeze intimidation out of thin glances as usual, his lids would shutter closed, offering an uncommon glimpse into the full collection of his eyelashes, whisper-thin and a shade lighter than the rest of his hair. There they could congregate above the crest of a smiling cheek to withhold the booming laughter that went seen and unheard when he grinned like this. Ennoshita’s eyes slid over the shimmering surface of Tanaka’s teeth, making up for the silence with their prominence over his face and curling up like heat in the evening, in defiance of the downward point of his eyebrows. He forced his eyes away, jumping in surprise when Tanaka reached across the space between them to roughly slap his shoulder, adding, “Bullshit. So are you down?”

Still reeling, Ennoshita tried not to focus on the noticeable pressure of the other man’s hand near the crook of his neck. “Um, sure. Of course!”

“My man!” He whooped, giving the spot a quick rub before releasing it and gathering his things. Ennoshita ignored the way residual warmth spread through his skin and out of the tips of his ears.

 

He replayed Tuesday morning’s events for the umpteenth time later that week, drumming the strap of his bag as he waited for Tanaka to unlock the classroom. Today was the final lesson (approximately 48 hours to drinks on Saturday night), and the festive atmosphere pulsed from the clusters of students, all chattering amiably after their time together. He attempted to absorb some of it, worrying at his lip when a classmate approached Tanaka at the door, and tracking her with his eyes until she left. He really was popular. When they finally began filing in, he made sure not to stare down every student who addressed him. (Do they like him? Does he like _them_? He wasn’t jealous, just curious) Thankfully, when Nishinoya showed up to gingerly attempt what he could with a recently-injured knee, he was able to focus on assisting him and make it through the rest of class without permanently etching worry-lines into his face. After all, Tanaka only got really excited about the girls, and they always joked about finding him funny more than anything. Class ended a bit earlier in order to have a “graduation” ceremony for all of the students moving onto level two (which did _not_ include Ennoshita, because his idea of a good time was tearing apart a bad film, not tearing apart his muscles). While clapping for the group, he congratulated himself for getting through without too much trouble.

“I hear you and Ryuu are going out for drinks!” Nishinoya opened as soon as the applause ended.  _I spoke too soon_ , he lamented, realizing it would be a surprise for Nishinoya _not_ to know. He looked over, relying on the sleepy ease of his natural expression to cover his apprehension. “Are you excited?” Ennoshita stayed silent a moment, studying the burnt orange bandages cradling his friend’s knee. _Was_ he excited? He considered the sharp increase of daydreams involving buzz cuts over contorted expressions and the lingering glances on _Kickboxer’s Monthly_ at the supermarket, as well as the worryingly loud countdown in his head whenever he saw a calendar, and the lip-chewing and tense gaze that followed (without fail) anyone who showed (any) interest in Tanaka (ever) since he’d asked.

“Yeah, I’m excited,” is what he said instead.

Nishinoya tipped his head to the side with the unabashed intrigue of a puppy, countering, “you sure? Because you’ve been looking over at him and drumming your free hand on stuff all class.” Ennoshita stopped his right fingers from their cadence beside his leg and huffed.

“I am looking forward to it,” he coaxed out after a couple more moments of silence, “but I’m just a little worried. I mean, why does he even want to hang out with me anyway? We just worked out together sometimes and I was in his class—I’m an office worker for crying out loud! It won’t be very interesting,” he admitted, standing to collect his stuff. He believed a little of that too. He was an adult in September for crying out loud, no use fantasizing over a summer-like crush. Nishinoya made a gurgling sound of distaste from behind him. “I know, I know, he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want to. But still, maybe I gave him the idea I was more worth his time?” He gave up organizing his bag when he felt the ivy brushing against his toes, tossing the last few items in haphazardly. “I just don’t want him to be disappointed.” _I_ really _don’t want him to be disappointed_ , he gulped, the image like fertilizer on the stem coiling faster up his legs.

Nishinoya sighed, briefly tugging Ennoshita out of his mind. “You’re supposed to come to me or one of the other guys when you start thinking like this. Didn’t you promise me and Narita? That day at the café?” Of course he remembered. He’d originally invited them as a soundboard for a review he was working on, and instead had a meltdown. He never went to that café anymore. The memory sharply illuminated all of his most mortifying moments, and the weed around his calves quickly shot up to his stomach, leaving nothing but a tingling numbness where it touched and the taste of bile in his throat.

“Right, sorry,” he apologized abruptly, hissing when his quivering fingers fumbled with his bag’s zipper. He couldn’t get the rate of his breathing right, all the inhalations were too long—how did he normally do this? In the back of his mind the core of his worries began to drip, despite his success at damning it throughout the earlier part of the day. Because Ennoshita knew that this went beyond the usual worry of wasting someone’s time with his own mediocrity. This was wasting the time of magnetic “good guy” Tanaka Ryuunosuke, who despite being Palpably Straight somehow caused Ennoshita’s mind to writhe in possessive irritation whenever anybody _else_ got familiar with him. This was _Moulin Rouge_ ’s tango-to-Roxanne-scene levels of “I know you’re like this with everybody but I _need_ to be special to you and damn straight I’m going to use my relaxed demeanor to stay close, so everybody else had better _back off_ ” and Ennoshita of all people had _no right_ to be like this and—should every exhale be the same length? Is his diaphragm okay? _I have to get out of here_ , he panicked, bolting from the room and making it to the center of the lobby before the foliage of his anxiety shaded out the rest of his mind.

* * *

 

Tanaka knew something was up before Noya’s yell hit the air. Despite joking around with some of his more enthusiastic students at the end of class, as per usual, Ennoshita’s heavy-lidded eyes managed to remain at the edge of his vision (which was new). But more importantly, it meant his head snapped up in surprise when said eyes (and the rest of him, obviously), darted out of the wide room in the middle of what appeared to be a serious conversation. Without fully grasping the situation, he had crossed  the room in two seconds, surpassed a hobbling Noya in five, and found himself slowing beside a crouched Ennoshita in the otherwise deserted lobby.

Noya was calling out some kind of instruction, but Tanaka couldn’t manage to focus on that. “Hey Ennoshita,” he began, the words emerging unsteady and ill-formed from his throat, “you’ve just got to breathe.” He tentatively rubbed circles into the silent man’s back.

He was promptly shoved away. _Oh no you don’t_ , he thought, changing tactics. He shuffled around in front and leaned into Ennoshita’s face with determination. “Ennoshita,” he tried again, calm but firm like one of those dog trainers, saying, “How many fingers am I holding up?” He still received no response, but Ennoshita looked at him, at least. The gaze was clouded, and he didn’t appear to be breathing well, but he was responsive. “What about now?” He switched fingers, attracting Ennoshita’s attention. “You’re all right. How many now? It’s four, that’s one-two-three-four. I’m here, you’re all right.” Another switch, holding each finger up in turn during the slow count. “It’s five now, one-two-three-four-five.” He continued like this for a while, waiting for the light to return to Ennoshita’s eyes before placing his hand on his shoulder in a way that he hoped was soothing. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Okay? So you’re all right,” he finished after a few more number runs. Ennoshita took a shaky deep breath and sat up, opening Tanaka’s field of vision to Noya and the couple of other students who’d hung around in worry.

Ennoshita feebly attempted a smile, looking way more exhausted than his normal expression could account for. “I’m all right, thanks.” Tanaka instinctively recoiled at that. He didn’t sound all right. He sounded— _disappointed_ , came the word, a heavy rock in the bottom of his gut. _Why? Did I do something wrong?_ He wondered, uncertainty creeping beneath the soles of his feet. “—turday huh,” came the end of a phrase.

“Huh? What?” Tanaka coughed, pulling himself back to the present.

“I said, ‘you probably don’t want to get drinks on Saturday, huh’,” He repeated with a quiet chuckle.

Tanaka heard him as an afterthought, mainly centered on the space that seemed to expand between them even with most of the on-lookers gone. Noya seemed to be waiting for something. “Ah, nah, I’ll be pissed if you don’t show up,” he finally replied, distracted.

It was Noya’s cue. “Well,” he interjected through a crooked expression, “I guess that’s that! Let’s get home Ennoshita.” Ennoshita unfolded until he stood, cringing at Nishinoya’s awkward segue. Kinnoshita had always been better with this.

As soon as he turned away, Ennoshita clamped his eyes shut so hard they ached. The only thing keeping him from dashing to the parking lot was a mixture of exhaustion from the episode and outright mortification. Tanaka hadn’t done anything wrong, and the comforting rumbling of his voice replayed itself in the back of his mind. But that made things so much _worse_. Even his parting words had been stilted and uncomfortable. “Nishinoya,” he mumbled hoarsely, “I can’t come with you to the gym anymore.”

“Oh, you’re gonna be fine!” He chirped encouragingly, giving him a friendly smile. His expression suddenly turned serious. “Just don’t mess with him too much, okay? He’s my bro and he’s a good guy,” he finished before easing back into a warm expression. Ennoshita looked at him before turning to watch the setting sun paint the inside walls in sickly yellows and inflamed pinks. What did that even mean?

* * *

Friday appeared with a splitting headache and not enough coffee creamer. By the grace of some god, an intern had made a huge mistake that sent the entire office scrambling to correct it. That meant Ennoshita spent his hours drowning in numbers and excel spreadsheets, and responding to frantic emails from other departments over burnt coffee during his breaks. In short, he didn’t have a chance to mentally castrate himself for having a breakdown in front of hot, idiot instructor Tanaka Ryuunosuke the day before. As he shrugged on a jacket and left the building, he thought he might actually get away with ignoring it for the rest of the day, if he was lucky.

“You know what?” Kinnoshita began during their shuffle towards the salvation of their favorite ramen shop, “We should have a few beers to celebrate fixing that intern’s error. I was worried for a minute there!” Narita cooed his agreement but Ennoshita nearly barreled into a nearby vending machine. _Drinks. Tomorrow. With Tanaka_. Oh god. He was not lucky. His fingers trembled as he pulled the door open, and the dark insides of the restaurant suddenly felt very much like he was climbing into the yawning mouth of some predator. But before his spiral of negativity could really get going, the soothing murmur of _I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Okay? So you’re all_ _right_ , whispered through his memory. Tanaka most certainly was not here, but his heart rate calmed just the same, and he no longer felt like he had come here to be eaten. He ordered the spicy pork with extra bean sprouts, and the warmth of the meal curled up through his body. The anxiety thing was still kind of an issue, but he couldn’t help the bubbles of excitement that popped whenever he imagined the following evening. He might like the guy a lot, and sure he’s Palpably Straight but it could still be fun. He all but ignored his friends as they discussed where to drink after dinner, because even though there was no hope for Tanaka liking him back, he had to devote his full attention to imaging his wardrobe and which of his shirts would flatter him the most for tomorrow. _Then_ _again, being alone with Tanaka with alcohol might be kind of nerve-wracking_ , he considered. He might bring a movie. You know. For support.

* * *

When Saturday arrives Ennoshita finishes a review for a military film based on a true story that he saw a while ago, and answers a few comments and inquiries from his blog. Then he does a load of laundry and scrubs his entire bathroom, and when he looks at the clock and begins counting down the hours until he’ll get to see Tanaka (NOT in workout gear for once), he goes and scrubs the bathtub again. He’s about to tackle the grout in his kitchen tile when a phone call saves him.

“Hello?”

“Yo, Ennoshita!”

“Hey Nishinoya, what d—“

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t freaking out too much.”

Ennoshita frowns. “I’m not freaking out.”

“I bet you’re scrubbing your bathroom.” There’s a smile in his voice.

He eyes the brush on his countertop and turns his back on it. “…I’m not scrubbing my bathroom,” he huffs.

“Anyway you wanna come shopping with me? My siblings’ birthdays are coming up and I need to get a gift or two. Figured you had some time to kill.”

 Secretly, Ennoshita is thankful for an excuse not to overhaul his entire kitchen just to waste a few hours. “Sure, I’ll meet you out front.”

When he gets back to the house that evening, he marvels at all the free time he’d had earlier in the day. In contrast, he now finds himself scrambling about, debating on what socks to wear and other irrelevant things, and goes through his closet three times before he settles on a simple sweater-button-up combo and drags himself out to the bus stop. The bar is actually within walking distance, but the September wind grumbles against his skin and he’d really taken too long getting ready. He’s careful to leave his face warm and open when he pushes through the heavy oak door, and scans the Irish-pub style interior with only a fraction of the interest that he feels showing.

“Hey, Ennoshita!” Tanaka calls from the left side of the bar, grin dominating his face. He’s in a simple camo green polo with the top buttons left undone, and the black coat to his side has freed the evenly toned arms that Ennoshita had seen peppered with sweat droplets over the past two weeks. There are two pretty girls right beside him which makes his smile stiffen just a bit, but when he approaches the pair they smile.

“He was really worried you wouldn’t come,” the first girl, with russet blonde waves whispers to him. “Good for you,” the other hums, rubbing Tanaka’s head and giggling when he squawks. And with that they are gone. When he turns back he finds Tanaka staring at him. He clears his throat and slowly peels away his own jacket. After the bartender has left to make his gin rickey and Tanaka’s rum and coke, the silence is broken.

“How have you been?” Tanaka asks as though they haven’t seen each other in weeks instead of days.

He chuckles. “I’m good.” The question hasn’t disappeared from his eyes though, so he continues. “That just happens sometimes, I get anxious. How’d you know what to do?”

“Oh, that?” He rubs the back of his neck and looks away. “I didn’t, really. I used to get distracted and had way too much energy as a kid, so my sis would do that for me and for some reason I just…did it with you.” He peeks back at Ennoshita. “You sounded kind of upset when you left. I hope I didn’t do the wrong thing.”

Ennoshita gapes at him for a moment, struggling to voice an apology for his own behavior, gratitude for Tanaka’s, or conversely an inhuman high-pitched moan at how unexpectedly cute he looks peeking over the shoulder of his green polo and scratching his head self-consciously.  Thankfully, his drink arrives instead. He downs it in one shot and orders another. “No no, I was just tired. That helped a lot and remembering kind of calms me down if it happens again, so” now he’s the one looking away in embarrassment, “thank you. You did nothing wrong.”

Once again Tanaka’s face reassembles into some hybrid of a scowl and a smile, as though he’s failing to hold in some wonderful secret. “Woo hoo!” He bellows, chugging his own first drink. “I was worried about that all of yesterday, you know. All right, now that that’s settled we can DRINK!”

Ennoshita imagines Tanaka thinking about him while he isn’t there and chases the thought away with another gin rickey. The conversation flows pretty smoothly after that, and even as the place fills with people Tanaka chats amiably with the bartender, which keeps her checking in on them and refilling their drinks. Apparently he really got into kickboxing at the end of high school and couldn’t imagine doing anything else, and because of his friendship with Nishinoya he’s able to understand some of Ennoshita’s work worries as well. In the giddy high of drunkenness he tells Tanaka about his love of films and his dreams of being a well-respected critic, and as expected Tanaka supports him fully. The encouragement fills him with a warmth that doesn’t come from liquor, and when he tries to play down the success of his blog, Tanaka loops his arm around his shoulders and gruffly tells him to believe in himself more, huffs it right into the cavity of his ear. In the next moment he sways towards his drink for another sip, but Ennoshita has to sit still until the blood stops pounding in his ears and his shoulders stop sizzling from where Tanaka has touched him. He takes a shaky breath and eases back into the conversation, ignoring the desire to touch him again and trying to erase the chant of “he smells so good” from his mind.

They’ve had a few more drinks when Ennoshita feels a blast of cold air from someone entering the bar. He blinks behind him and realizes that the bar has all but emptied out, save for a patron here or there. A warm hand on his lower thigh and a weight on his shoulder bring him back to where Tanaka is whining.

“I’m telling you man,” he’s saying, “girls are always really nice to me and laugh at my jokes but then I embarrass myself and it’s over! There’s no one as embarrassing as me.”

The bartender snorts and clears some of the empty glasses “I agree.”

It’s meant as a joke but the alcohol is fogging things up in his brain and he glares at the table. He can’t think very well but he knows that Tanaka is feeling bad, and also is leaning on his shoulder and smells very _good_ , but the important thing is that he wants to make him feel better.

“You think that’s embarrassing?” He asks, wincing at the volume. He has to lean past Tanaka’s hand on his thigh to reach his bag and works very hard not to brush it with his fingers, before he pulls out a DVD of “The Proposal”. “I know it’s dumb but movies bring me a lot of support and I was nervous, so I brought a movie even though this is a bar. Who’s embarrassing now?” When Tanaka first dissolves into sleepy laughter he is relieved to have cheered him up. But when he continues to laugh after a few more seconds Ennoshita wonders why he told him in the first place. “Shut up, it’s not that funny.” Tanaka is laughing right into his neck now, and when he pushes him away it’s partly to keep his heart from combusting.

They look at each other when his laughter finally stops, but Ennoshita can’t read the look that accompanies his wobbly smirk. “Wait. Isn’t that the guy from The Green Lantern?”

“Yes but have you seen THIS movie? It’s a classic, really cute,” he immediately begins gathering his things and places his card on the table. Ennoshita loves a quality film, but he’s also a big sucker for romantic comedies. Especially when drunk. “You’ve got to watch it. In fact, you’ve got to watch it right now.” The bartender doesn’t let them leave until they’ve each chugged a water each, but then he’s free to lead Tanaka into the brisk night, with Tanaka insisting on holding his wrist to “stay steady”.

When they reach his apartment he shrugs out of his jacket and orders Tanaka into the living room. An overhead light is too bright, totally out of the question, so he bumbles around until reaching the hallway lamp, and goes to make two mugs of hot chocolate because movies = hot chocolate and he will hear no other opinion on the issue. For the first half of the film, they sit side-by-side on the couch and nurse their hot chocolates while watching the movie. About 2/3 of the way through however, Ennoshita begins sobering up and realizes that somewhere along the way Tanaka ended up curled about him on the couch and that he himself was leaning quite brazenly over the length of his entire (rock hard, beautiful) body. He’s thinking that maybe he can act like he didn’t notice how selfish he’s being and just stay like that until the movie’s over when Tanaka nuzzles into the spot where his chin meets his neck and honest-to-god _hums_.

“This movie is pretty funny,” he murmurs, Ennoshita more feeling the vibration than hearing the words. Suddenly he’s bulging against Tanaka’s thigh and feeling extremely warm, which is a fantastic cue for him to get up and deal with the empty mugs. It’s comically painful to leave the couch, but he’s grateful when he places the cups into the sink and grabs a bit of water for himself, a moment to calm down and deal with his hormones. Tanaka is a really cool guy and just wanted to get drinks for some reason, so the last thing he should do is jump the man just because he smells nice, or feels good, or sounds really hot when he’s sleepy and curling into Ennoshita’s body…he downs another glass of water.

He feels a bit more like himself when he returns, only to see Tanaka tearing up at the screen, growling, “That’s so fuckin’ sweet.” The contrast in his gruff look and his tearful comment are so adorable that affection swells in his throat dangerously, until all he can do is laugh. Still looking at Tanaka fondly, Ennoshita reflects on how good he feels, how well the night has gone.

He won’t let himself ruin it.

“It’s romantic, right?” He asks lightly, turning the TV off and pressing a glass of water into Tanaka’s hands before immediately retracting his own. He hears the glass meet the table but won’t take his eyes from the TV. “You can sleep in here. The blanket’s at your feet.” He can feel Tanaka’s eyes on him, but still he does not look. “Anyway, I had fun. Good night.” He turns towards the bedroom, feeling foolishly lonely and a little bit relieved. He didn’t mess up. They can become friends like this.

When he’s almost past the coffee table he feels a tug on his pant leg, goes careening towards the floor and catches himself on the couch.

“Oops, sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly. His face is very close. It smells like rum, and chocolate, and Ennoshita wants to taste it. He looks away from watery grey eyes and finds the promise of abs through the unbuttoned top of Tanaka’s shirt, and tries not to analyze how he still finds him cute when he smells of alcohol and is still sniffling. He’s so busy trying not to think that he misses what Tanaka says.

“What?”

Again, in an oddly clear voice, “give me your number. Before you sleep. I don’t want you to leave for work or something and for me to never see you again.”

He doesn’t feel touched, doesn’t feel hope expanding like hot air. “You’ll see me at the gym though,” he says, quiet.

“I don’t care.” His finger taps the table defiantly two times, punctuating an unspoken “Number. Please.”

Ennoshita rolls his eyes to keep from smiling and writes his number on a receipt that was left on the table. He then tips Tanaka, who falls, unbalanced, back into a lying position. When Ennoshita straightens on his knees, peripheral view of the living room slating into place, he is relieved at the distance put between them.

Momentarily, that is.

When he grabs the bunched blankets at the edge of Tanaka’s feet, he feels the gaze. It is prickly and warm like static from a TV that you graze with a finger, close enough to feel but not enough touch. He gathers the itchy wool blend and slowly unfurls it over his guest’s legs, the weight of those eyes tipping over his shoulders, his hands, and the top of his head. He refuses to look up, the absolute picture of focus on his task, but it feels so slow, and every moment he wades deeper into the warm currents of Tanaka’s vision. It’s dizzying. It’s ridiculous. When he reaches Tanaka’s stomach, he glances up, hoping to find the unfocused gaze of inebriation. With a quarter breath of hesitation, he breaks eye contact, continuing without any noticeable reaction. Yes, Tanaka’s eyes had been a little glassy, but catching his eye only made the prickly fuzz envelope him completely, air replaced by a humid cloud of slate gray that he had yet to put out of mind. But otherwise it was cool, he was fine. If his hands trembled a bit and he was suddenly capable only of shallow, rickety breaths, well then it was the alcohol or the sudden spike in heat—so bizarre for September but worth no further thought.

“G’night,” Tanaka slurs, startling him back into eye contact once he’d finally gotten the blanket to the man’s neck. Ennoshita opens his mouth to respond, but Tanaka’s voice was husky with fatigue, quiet as though for fear of breaking a spell, and the sound stops his words, an impassible honey ballooning in his throat.

Ennoshita smiles weakly, gaze slipping to the slope of Tanaka’s lips before he wrenches it up. He is still watching him, unblinking. Even the clock on the wall seems to be waiting for something. And there are a lot of things he wants in his life, but at the moment he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anything so _badly_. His brain is swimming, but he doesn’t think he can blame it on the liquor. “Um.” He hesitates, eyes drifting back down to his lips, feeling dizzy. “Can I—“

“Yes,” Tanaka all but growls, swallowing up the rest of his question in the pocket between his lips. Ennoshita sighs into it, exploring Tanaka’s mouth as though a new room in his home. It feels comfortable. It tastes like chocolate. The gentleness Tanaka uses to invite him in has none of the eagerness that he uses to pull him up onto the couch. It’s infectious, and Ennoshita roughly shoves the blanket out of the way and onto the floor, before sending one of his hands hungrily beneath the fabric of the polo shirt onto the planes of muscle below. They shiver under his touch and Tanaka groans quietly into his mouth, which only makes Ennoshita more desperate. In instinct his other hand goes for Tanaka’s head, before he remembers that there’s nothing to grab onto there. So he slowly brings it back down, caressing the shell of his ear and tickling the edge of his neck. He groans again and probes Ennoshita’s mouth more insistently, pulling him flush against him with one hand and sliding the other over his butt. Ennoshita doesn’t mean to, but he whimpers.

Tanaka gasps at that, or for air, but he’s back just as quickly, shifting until he’s got one hand in Ennoshita’s hair and the other beneath his abdomen. He walks it across his stomach slowly until he’s directly over the buldge in his pants. “Sorry I’m not prepared today,” he says in between kisses, “but hopefully this is okay for now.” He keeps his movements slow and thorough, right over the soft fabric of his pants, and Ennoshita stiffens more.

“You can’t.” He shivers under the touch.

Tanaka slowly increases his pace, breath changing as though he’s the one being rubbed. “Do you want me to stop?”

Of course not. “Well, no…”

Tanaka grins into his mouth and takes that as a cue to go all out. He aims for the dampest part of his pants and returns his other hand to his ass. Ennoshita can’t kiss anymore; he’s too focused on supporting himself and not turning into a moaning mess.

He’s barely keeping a plead out of his panting when Tanaka huffs, “like you so much,” and that’s all it takes before he chokes out wordlessly and pumps himself into Tanaka’s hand, the both of them moving through his climax. When he comes down, Tanaka is grinning at him widely and panting. “Can we get drinks like this again?” He asks, all innocent cheer.

He’s more than a little embarrassed that he came apart so easily on a first date, but something about that smile puts one on his face too. He climbs off to tidy up and mutters, “As long as you don’t mind my company.”


End file.
